Rules of the Game

Here's part 4... see part 1 for disclaimer.


*For the truly sane and decent among us, complete freedom is impossible to achieve. The circumstances of, as well as the people in, our lives serve as boundaries; they represent the true limits to our freedom.*

"I'm not at all sure we're dealing with either the sane or the decent here, Sydney, but I get your point," Jarod murmured, recalling his mentor's words as he peered through binoculars from his perch high atop a hillside at the flurry of activity below. It was early evening, just before sunset, and the place was abuzz, the last few delivery vans pulling away as the first few expensive luxury cars and even a few limos pulled up, ejecting their contents into the waiting hands of hired valets. Those arriving were finely dressed and appeared respectable enough but, given where they were going, Jarod knew better. After a few minutes a car pulled up and out popped a familiar figure, clearly identifiable by his body language even before Jarod raised the binoculars for a closer look. His expression hardened as he watched the man saunter smugly inside.

"Hello, Lyle," he sneered, his jaw tight, then added, "Just waiting on one more addition to the happy family... just one more." And that one final addition was the sole reason Jarod had gone anywhere near the place.

He didn't have to wait long and soon caught sight of that awesome black beauty approaching in the distance. He loved that car and had, on more than one occasion, toyed with the idea of taking it for a joy ride but always thought better of it. Parker had her limits, of which he was always mindful and careful to skirt; messing with her baby fell squarely beyond those limits.

*Well, Jarod, I suppose what we each must do is find some way to influence, and perhaps even dictate, the terms of our own captivity.*

"I want to drive that car," Jarod declared to no one in particular as he raised the binoculars once more.

He watched intently as she made her appearance, those unbearably long, excruciatingly shapely legs gliding slowly out of the vehicle and heralding her arrival. Death-defying heels clicking to the pavement she rose gracefully, nonchalantly dropping her keys into the hand of the young man attending her, both intimidating and bewitching him at the same time... a Miss Parker specialty. Jarod smiled and shook his head then refocused his gaze upon her.

*Perfection...*

She wore a sleeveless cocktail dress of silvery-gray and her hair up in a sleek style. Almost everything about her evoked a sense of cool, like ice, but also strength, like a diamond - a living, breathing diamond - able to cut through glass, or anything else that got in her way, with merely a look or a word. Only one part of her ensemble deviated from this theme, her footwear. She wore a pair of strappy sandals with heels so high that they made her usual foot attire seem rather tame by comparison. Jarod had once heard a rather off-color term to describe heels of similar height and chuckled as it came back to him. Whoever coined it must have had something like this in mind, Parker's ruby red sandals.

He felt a flutter of excitement in his belly and continued to watch until she, too, disappeared into the building. Jarod lowered the binoculars and took a deep breath. With a sly smile he remarked,

"Time to renegotiate the terms of my captivity."

* * * *

"You look smashing, Angel, as always!" Mr. Parker bellowed as he made his way over to greet her.

"Thank you, Daddy, so do you," she replied with a smile that she hoped didn't betray its insincerity.

"You betcha! It's the Parker way. Now, where's that brother of yours? I saw him around here a minute ago."

"I'm sure he's around... somewhere," she replied disinterestedly. She wasn't in any particular hurry to see him this evening. "Where's the bar?"

"In the usual location... and the caterer has people walking through with trays of bubbly. We've got a virtual army here. You should see all the tents they've set up in the backyard, looks like a damned encampment."

"Well you've pulled it off again, Daddy, everything looks perfect."

"Thanks, Angel, everything IS perfect now that you're here. Oh, there's the sheik and his wife," Mr. Parker observed sounding apologetic, "He's a very important contact so I'd better..."

"It's okay, Daddy, you go ahead. I'll mingle."

"You'll dazzle 'em, Angel." With that and a quick peck on the cheek, he moved away from her.

"I'll dazzle 'em," she muttered frowning, "Because that's what I do," then headed straight for the bar.

Tucked away in a quiet corner of the crowded room, Parker steadily drained her second glass of Cabernet. She eyed it and counseled herself on moderation. She was going to require a lot of wine to get through the evening and couldn't risk intoxication. Here she was again, at Daddy's annual get together for important Centre "clientele." She surveyed the scene and took in the din of a multitude of simultaneous conversations. Set off a bomb in here, she mused, and you could probably make a real dent in world suffering. In the room were heads of multi-national corporations, career bureaucrats from all over the world who were obviously enjoying a break from thwarting the will of the people they're sworn to serve, and even a few highly placed government officials sent as envoys by the second rate regimes of various Third World nations.

"I see your glass is empty, Ma'am. May I take it?"

Parker shut her eyes for an instant and shook her head. Don't be ridiculous, she thought, better lay off the Cabernet. She turned to place the glass on the busboy's tray when it slipped from her hand. Bearing a full tray of empty glasses, he somehow managed to bend and snatch it from thin air, preventing it from hitting the floor.

"Careful, Ma'am, broken glass can be dangerous and we wouldn't want an accident to spoil this wonderful party."

"What the fuck!" she hissed through clenched teeth. "Are you out of your fucking mind!"

Ignoring her words he looked around and remarked in a conversational tone, "This really is quite a house. I can only imagine what the rest of it looks like." He gave a slight nod in the direction of the floor above them.

Shaking so violently she feared her knees might buckle, Parker turned away briefly to anxiously scan the room. She caught sight of her father at the far end, heavily engrossed in the act of ingratiating himself to a powerful Swiss banker. In another corner she noticed a prominent Malaysian businessman who had brought along his two daughters, lovely young women in their early 20s and, as to be expected, laid eyes on Lyle for the first time all evening. Better keep an eye on those girls, Mr. Sim, she thought fleetingly before turning back to deal with the urgent matter at hand.

"J..."

She groaned... typical. He had disappeared, of course, but Parker knew he wasn't gone. Not even Jarod would take such a tremendous risk for the expressed purpose of startling the living shit out of her. Well, probably not. No, he was still there, she reasoned, remembering his remark about the rest of the house. Upstairs... he's upstairs.

Parker moved across the room toward her father, snatching up a flute of champagne along the way. Just as she reached him, she stumbled slightly and jostled the full glass enough for its contents to splash down the front of her. The sacrifices I'm force to make, she thought wistfully of her brand new $800 dress, the sacrifices.

"That was slick," she uttered sounding annoyed.

Her father chuckled. "What the hell do you expect, Angel, when you run around on stilts?"

"I expect whatever bastard I happen to be facing to be so preoccupied with my legs that he never even realizes I've gotten the better of him until after I'm gone," she replied with a steely glare.

Tugging at his collar, Mr. Parker offered with a conciliatory smile, "I'll flag down one of the catering staff to help you with that."

"No need, I'll see to it myself."

"Sure, Angel?"

"Yes, Daddy," she smiled sweetly and added, "I won't be long."

"Don't be," he shot back with a wink.

Stopping along the way to grab a cloth napkin and dip it in soda water, Parker headed for the back stairs. Hoping to draw as little attention as possible, she wiped the front of her dress as she wound her way through the maze of white-topped, black-bottomed catering staff dashing this way and that. It would have been a piece of cake for Jarod to slip in under these circumstances, she reckoned. Her father was right; it was a virtual army and one operating at a frenzied pace making it highly unlikely that anyone would have noticed a stranger in their midst.

Flinging the napkin behind her on the kitchen counter, she heaved a small sigh of relief as she began to slowly climb the stairs, leaving behind the clamor of the party. When she reached the top landing, she gingerly stepped into the dimly lit hallway; the only available light provided by wall sconces that lined the corridor. And they were rather more ornamental than functional.

"Jarod," Parker called out in a loud whisper and got no response. He had to be there. She slowly crept forward and stopped at the first door, Daddy's room. She cautiously opened it, flicked on the light, stepped inside and made a quick but thorough search of both the bedroom and the adjoining bath. Nothing. She moved on, checking his study, then proceeded to the first of several guest bedrooms, then the next, and the next. All the while her ire was building. What sort of game was Jarod playing? And what, in God's name, could a man who lives alone possibly do with so many bedrooms? Deciding that was one question that should remain forever rhetorical, she pushed on, soon reaching the end of the corridor and the last room to be inspected.

*My room...*

Well, not exactly her room, but the one she had used when visiting on school vacations. Daddy had acquired the house shortly after he sent Parker off to boarding school following Catherine's death. He'd purchased it from a retired local banker and his wife, highly respectable old money types who, as was common of their class, must have enjoyed some sort of "arrangement" because they had built the house with two identical master bedrooms placed at opposite ends of a rather long hallway. She'd never really liked the room; it felt cold and unfamiliar to her. It had never felt like home.

Parker took a deep breath then opened the door. Flicking on the light, she stood in the doorway and stared into the room. It was empty; he wasn't there. She could check the bathroom but she knew that it, too, would be empty. Her heart sank, which in itself disturbed her but she didn't really want to think about it. All she really wanted at that moment was another glass of Cabernet.

"Fuck you, Jarod," she grumbled then flicked off the light. She was just about to turn around when she felt a hand close over her mouth, an arm slide around her waist, and a body press against hers from behind propelling her into the dark room. Once inside she was released and, hearing the door close and lock behind her, spun to face her assailant.

"Do you WANT me to hurt you?" she snarled in a low voice at the tall, dark silhouette in front of her. He chuckled. She made a move for the light switch.

"I don't think so, Parker," he said teasingly then shoved her back.

"Goddamnit! I wish I had my gun!"

"But you don't. No place to conceal a weapon in that get-up," he joked.

Ignoring his levity she demanded, "What the hell do you think you're doing? Do you have any idea what they would do if they found you here?"

"By 'they' I assume you are referring to Lyle and your father?" He sounded entirely too blasé and it infuriated her.

"Well, who the hell else?"

"Oh, them," his tone was mildly contemptuous, "I can elude those two in my sleep." He took a step toward her and continued, "No, there's only one member of the Parker clan that I can't seem to shake, no matter how hard I try." He took another step, this time entering her personal space and compelling her to take a step back. "And this marks the moment I officially give up trying. I've finally stopped running, Miss Parker. Congratulations, you've caught me. Actually, upon reflection I've come to believe that you always had me. And when I think of all the energy we've both wasted..." He sighed.

"W... what are you talking about?" She had been so startled by his sudden appearance that, until now, hadn't stopped to ponder teasoeason behind it; or, perhaps, she had made an unconscious decision not to. She wasn't at all sure which it was.

"Why, the rules of the game, of course." His voice now sounded different to her, unfamiliar, almost dangerous. He took another step in her direction, then another, forcing her further into the room.

"More specifically, your recent enforcement of aforementioned rules." His tone was controlled, unnervingly calm.

"W... we can't discuss that now... here." Parker didn't recognize her own voice either; it sounded fragile all of a sudden. "I'll meet you later... at a place of your choosing. I'll come alone... I... I promise." She found herself abruptly and acutely aware of her trembling body.

He snickered, "Oh, I don't think that's necessary. This suits me just fine. Now, back to the rules." He recommenced his slow, steady advance and she her retreat. "You see, I've given it a lot of thought over the last week and it occurs to me that in seeking to enforce one rule, you broke another."

"Another? What? Which?"

Parker struggled to reclaim her voice, which now seemed hopelessly beyond her reach, and jumped slightly when she felt something soft hitting the backs of her legs. He had succeeded in backing her up to the bed and was now standing no more than an inch or two away from her. If she attempted to make a lateral move now, all he'd have to do is grab her and pin her arms; she was trapped. She silently berated herself for her stupidity and was thankful that he couldn't see the tears of anger and frustration now welling in her eyes.

Jarod reached up and placed his hands firmly on her shoulders, swallowing hard as he felt her shudder beneath his touch, then replied quietly, "That you, Miss Parker, must never, ever reveal that you actually give a damn," before unceremoniously shoving her back onto the bed.

Parker gasped and, feeling the bed dip under his weight as he straddled her body, protested, "You can't possibly..."

"Want to be close to a woman who seems hell bent on destroying my life?" he interrupted, "I know, it doesn't make any sense to me either, but here we are."

She pressed both hands firmly against his chest in an attempt to maintain some distance between them but he simply grasped her by the wrists and slid her arms up over her head as he leaned forward.

"This is crazy, Jarod, please..." she whispered

He stopped, his face a few inches above hers, and rebuked, "Did you show me... us any mercy last week?"

"I... I wouldn't have hurt her. You have to know that."

"Oh, but you did, Miss Parker..." He leaned in further and spoke against her ear making her squirm at the sensation of his hot breath. "But you didn't do it alone," he added in a deeper voice, "You were only an accomplice, really." He pressed his lips softly and lingeringly against her neck, just below her ear, and she sucked in a deep breath.

"M... my father... we're in m... my f... father's house," she stammered as Jarod tenderly nibbled his way along her jaw line on his journey toward her mouth. When he reached her lips, he murmured against them, "You threw down the gauntlet, Parker; I'm just picking it up."

He hesitated there a moment, allowing the full weight of his words to sink in. Sensing the slow nod of her head, he teasingly brushed his lips against hers and remarked, "I thought you'd see it my way." Parker could hear the smirk in his voice and sighed as Jarod covered her mouth with his.

The kiss began light and soft but soon deepened, his tongue gliding into her yielding mouth and becoming probing, insistent. Parker whimpered and Jarod moaned in response, tightening his hold on her wrists and pressing them into the bed as he shifted his weight to push one knee between her thighs to part them. He broke the kiss and unclasped her arms, moving his hands to her waist to guide her body farther up the bed, which, in turn, enabled him to straighten his body over hers. Balancing his weight on his elbows, his left leg slid between hers as he lightly stroked her face with the tips of his fingers. Her breath hitched as he let his hand drop to her neck, drawing lazy circles on the hollow of her throat with his index finger. Bending forward to kiss her again, he shifted his weight onto his right side, freeing his left hand to explore southward.

"Ah!" she gasped, as he cupped and gently squeezed her right breast. He groaned hungrily at the sensation of her trembling beneath him, thoroughly enjoying the effect he was having upon her. He traced slow, teasing circles around her nipple, which he could feel stiffen through the delicate fabric of her dress. He gave it a slight pinch and smiled as he felt her body arch into his touch then dropped his head to feast on her neck, delivering a deadly combination of hot, wet kisses and gentle nips.

"They find us here... like this... we both die," she panted, hoping to persuade him to care about such a thing when she was having considerable difficulty doing so herself.

"Yeah, but what a way to go," he whispered seductively as his hand wandered over to her other breast and continued doing exquisite things to her. He then recommenced his assault on her neck.

Parker tried to piece it together but she couldn't. How the hell did this happen? How was it that one moment she was standing in her father's living room, sipping wine at a party, and the next she was off in a quiet corner of the house, fumbling in the dark with HIM?

Jarod's hand slid lower, tracing delightful patterns on her abdomen as he went, and continuing until he reached the hem of her dress, which had already ridden up considerably through the course of events. He stroked the soft skin of her upper thighs and remarked huskily,

"Your legs are bare."

She thought she could detect the slightest hint of disappointment in his voice. What IS it with men and stockings? Licking her lips she mused, they sure as hell wouldn't be so enamored if THEY had to wear them.

"NOBODY under sixty wears hosiery with open-toed sandals anymore, Jarod," she sighed, registering the absurdity of discussing fashion etiquette at a time like this.

"Oh," he replied with a slight nod then glided his hand under the fabric of her dress. His heart raced at the sensation of heat emanating from her. She felt so good, even better than he had imagined. He took a deep breath then touched her through the fabric of her damp panties, very, very gently with just one finger. In response, Miss Parker shuddered and made the most delicious sound he'd ever heard. Emboldened, he began to stroke her with feather light touches, tenderly mapping the contours of her flesh through increasingly wet silk.

"Miss Parker," he murmured sexily, his breath hot against her ear, "you're breaking another rule of the game. You're feeling something... you're feeling this... you're feeling me."

Until now, Parker had not moved her arms from where they rested on either side of her head. She had not touched Jarod back, perhaps in an attempt to remain detached from what was happening to her. But there was no way to remain detached. He was touching her so perfectly, teasing her until she ached. And she could feel him hard against her, his erection brushing her thigh. She became aware of a low, persistent whimper and realized that she was making the sound. A wave of panic swept over her. She could not do this. Her father and Lyle were right downstairs; she could not let Jarod do this to her in her father's house. She reached down and grasped his hand, stilled its movement, and cried out breathlessly,

"No!"

He raised his head a fraction and asked softly, "Did I do something wrong?sn'sn't it feel good?"

"N... no, I mean, yes. We can't... I can't let you... My father and Lyle are right downstairs!"

"And?" Sternness crept into his voice to replace the concern.

"AND we can't do this here!"

"Why not, still afraid of disappointing Daddy? Well, Miss Parker, what Daddy doesn't know won't hurt him. After all, isn't that the philosophy he's applied to you all these years?"

"Is that what this is, Jarod? Seeking your reveagaiagainst my father by fucking his little girl?" Parker spat as she attempted to push him away and sit up. He would have none of it and shoved her back, covering her body with his, holding her down and snaking his hand between their bodies to reclaim its previous position but remaining still.

"Oh, no, I'm not letting you do this to me again," he growled, "You know this isn't about your father or Lyle or anybody else. This is about us, just us and no one else. This about the claim stakstaked last weekend. It is one I willingly cede because it's rightfully yours; but I will not, I cannot let you dictate all of the terms, particularly when you seem so determined to defy your own desires."

"What do you know about my desires?" she challenged, her voice quivering on the verge of angry tears.

"I know that a woman with your passion and spirit cannot possibly want to be all alone without a connection, cut off from feeling, cut off from this..." His fingers recommenced their tender, intimate exploration. "And I don't want to either," he muttered against her lips before sinking into another deep, passionate kiss.

He was right. Parker had grown tired of the nun's life but hadn't been able to bear the alternative either: largely passionless encounters with men she barely knew or, if they did hang around long enough for her to get to know, rarely liked. She was transported back some 20 years, to when she was a girl of seventeen on a break from school. Daddy had brought her to work with him one day and, on their way to lunch, they'd encountered Jarod and Sydney. Her father had been beyond rude, of course, and ushered her quickly away. But she and Jarod had managed to exchange a fleeting glance and it electrified her. He had become a man, a handsome, remarkably well-built man, but in his eyes she'd caught a glimpse of that shy, sweet boy she once knew so well. And that night, as she lay alone in the darkness of this very room, she had thought of Jarod. She had thought of him and had been unable to resist the urge to touch herself. She vividly recalled biting one hand to stifle her moans, terrified her father might hear, as she guiltily used the other to bring herself to climax, hiding her desire from the whole world and, in the cold light of day, denying it even to herself. Here he was, the genuine article, determined to do for her what she had done for herself years earlier while consumed by thoughts of him. And, in that instant, Parker resolved to let him.

Jarod felt her relaxing beneath him, giving in, and becoming a more active participant in their kiss. Parker wound her arms around him for the first time, running her hands over the taught muscle of his back. It was no longer enough to touch her through the slick silk of her underwear and heppedpped his fingers beneath the fabric to explore her bare flesh. He let out a low, predatory growl - she was so soft and so wet he could barely stand it - and she gasped against his mouth in reply. Parker whimpered in protest as Jarod raised his head slightly, breaking the kiss.

"I'll bet you taste as good as you feel," he intoned hoarsely as he raised himself up on his palms and propelled himself down her body.

Parker squirmed beneath him as she shimmied up her dress to grant him greater access to her painfully aroused body. He gave a shaky chuckle and remarked, "When you make your mind up..."

"I want a fond memory to look back on when I'm locked up in Renewal Wing," she joked unsteadily as she felt his fingers slip beneath the waistband of her panties. She raised her hips to assist him as he slid them off her body. Jarod backed off the bed into a standing position and instructed softly, "Scoot down here, to the edge." She eagerly complied and gave a fleeting thought to what the condition of her dress would be when this was all over. Deciding it was the least of her problems, she put it out of her mind. He knelt down at the foot of the bed between her legs and placed his hands on her bent knees.

"Now I'm sorry it's so dark in here," he said, his voice deep and low as his hands wandered up the soft skin of her thighs. "I wish I could see you... like this," he whispered as his fingers glided into her moist depths. Parker bit her lip and moaned, her body arching slightly.

"Mmmm..." Jarod moaned as he leaned into her body and caught her scent. He then began placing tender, teasing kisses to the sensitive flesh of her inner thighs.

Parker let out a frustrated grunt and demanded, "Just do it!"

He lifted his head to gaze up at her, his chin burrowing into her thigh as he smiled peacefully. "Do what, Miss Parker?"

"Y... you know!" she replied impatiently.

"Say it," he commanded, "I want to hear you say it."

"Make me come, Jarod. I n... need to..." she trailed off, choking on her own desire.

"Uh-oh..." he remarked in a sexy whisper that betrayed a hint of amusement, "There goes another one of the rules. Miss Parker just admitted she has needs. What WILL we do with her?"

Jarod lowered his head and flicked his tongue at her, teasingly at first, but then with more vigor. He began to lap hungrily as his fingers plundered her inner depths. Everything he did was perfect and the pleasure was almost unbearable. It was as if he were completely familiar with her intimate anatomy, working from a diagram that clearly illustrated all her unique little spots and included precise, detailed instructions on how to treat each and every one. In what was probably her last fragment of coherent thought, Parker reckoned he knew more about where and how to touch her than anyone she'd ever granted that privilege, herself included.

"Oh, God!" she called out, clutching the bedspread with one hand and bringing the other up to her mouth in an attempt to stifle the sounds being wrenched from somewhere deep within her. Her cries were joined by Jarod's low, muffled moans and grunts of gratification at having her this way: completely opened up to him, exposed and at his mercy. He was surrounded by her essence, lost in the taste, smell, and feel of her, spurred on by her exquisite cries of ecstasy. His actions became increasingly frenzied, wild as he devoured her, everything so hot and wet, her body tensing, winding tighter and tighter by the second.

"Jarod!"

It was the same two syllables he'd heard her utter thousands of times - in annoyance, anger, sadness, indifference - but it had never sounded like this. It snapped him out of his reverie, allowing him to observe with a mixture of awe and adoration as her long, strong, lean body convulshrouhrough a powerful orgasm. Jarod continued stroking and licking her until her movements stilled and her breathing began to even out, until he felt her shaky hand reach down to stroke his hair. He lifted his head and her hand dropped to caress his cheek. Parker managed a small smile when she realized that she wasn't the only one left trembling and sighed as he pulled her hand to his lips and kissed her palm. He then rolled back on his heels and stood.

"You stay put," he instructed softly before going into the bathroom.

Parker had no choice but to comply; she doubted her legs were operable. She heard water running then Jarod returned, kneeling down in front of her again. She jumped slightly at the sensation of the warm, wet towel against her skin but soon adjusted, propping herself up on her elbows to watch his dark silhouette as he tenderly and meticulously wiped away the physical evidence of what had just occurred. It was more than a little unsettling; it was bordering on the ridiculous. Hell, it was probably highly undignified but, again, she chose not to care. Instead, she just sat back and smiled wickedly, enjoying Jarod's worshipful cleansing of her body. He was just about finished when she slipped one leg between his and brushed her shin against his crotch.

"Man, that must hurt," she observed dryly.

"Oh... oh yeah, but I'll live. We'll see to it later." After the initial shakiness, Jarod's voice exuded both amiability and confidence.

"Later?" she repeated skeptically.

"You'll find the directions and a key in your purse, which, incidentally, a member of the staff was courteous enough to bring up here in case you needed to freshen your make-up or something. It's on the counter in the bathroom." He tapped on her thigh to signal that his task was complete and helped her lower her skirt.

"Aren't we being just a tad over-confident?" she bristled. Regardless of the circumstances, Parker hated being considered a sure thing. "What makes you think I won't stand you up, or that I won't bring a sweeper team along for the ride?" Brave words, kiddo, she thought, who the hell do you think you're kidding?

"Because if you do either one of those things," he leaned forward and captured her bottom lip between his teeth, giving it a playful tug before continuing, "I will spend the rest of my days making you live to regret it." He then sprang to a standing position and walked back into the bathroom. Tracking his movements, she was pleased when he flicked on the bathroom light as he entered. My God, he's beautiful, she thought, frowning slightly when he disappeared from view.

"Besides..."

He soon reappeared, leaning casually against the doorway. His powerful male form backlit by the bathroom light, he looked stunning.

"How else will you get these back?" He asked playfully as he twirled her panties on one finger.

"Jarod!" she demanded through clenched teeth, "Give me..."

He shook his head slowly, neatly folding and slipping the item in question into his front pocket as he paced over to her. He offered his hand to help her up and advised,

"Make sure you're not followed."

"As if," she shot back as he pulled her up and into his arms.

He kissed her again and she could taste herself on him. He positively reeked of her and Parker decided that she liked the idea of her scent on Jarod, marking him as hers. He was right; something in her had snapped that morning in Lyle's office, compelling her to stake her claim after all these years. Perhaps one day she would understand it, that is, if she lived long enough. This sure as hell wasn't going to ADD years to her life.

Jarod recaptured her full attention as one of his hands slid down to the hem of her skirt, then up under it to cup her bare bottom, pressing her against his still fervent erection. A moan emanated from deep within him and, pulling back from the kiss he panted,

"I've wanted a lot of things since my escape but believe me when I say I've never wanted anything as much as I want to be inside you."

She chuckled throatily then whispered, "Well, you should have thought of that a half hour ago, genius, because I have to get b..." Parker heard something outside in the hallway and froze. She attempted to pull away from Jarod but he tightened his hold on her. Someone knocked firmly on the door then tried the knob in an attempt to open it.

"You in there, Angel?"

"Y... yes, Daddy," Parker answered while trying to shake Jarod off the spot on her neck he'd commenced nibbling.

"Is everything alright? You've been MIA for quite a while."

"I've just got a bit of a headache, that's all. I came up here to take something and for a little breather from the hubbub. I decided to give the medication a bit of a head start by lying down for a few minutes. I'll be down soon, I promise." She bit her lip to stifle a giggle as Jarod latched onto her ear.

"Are you sure you'll be okay? What's with the locked door? Let me in."

"Just a little safeguard against our more 'friendly' guests. Please, Daddy, I'll be right down."

"Alright, Angel," he conceded with a sigh, "but don't make me come up here again."

Jarod snickered as he continued to feast on her neck and Parker shushed him, listening as intently as she could under the circumstances until she was certain her father was out of earshot.

"Now, you go!" she ordered while laboring to extricate herself from his arms. "I need to perform some major triage on my hair and make-up and get downstairs before Daddy starts getting suspicious, if he isn't already."

"I wouldn't worry about him. You are an excellent liar, Miss Parker," Jarod quipped as he finally released her. She went into the bathroom and looked in the mirror.

"Lord help me," she muttered as she reached for her bag. Hastily opening it, she noticed a piece of paper drop out and smiled slyly. She took a moment to glance at it before slipping it back into place and retrieving her make-up case.

"I don't know what they're going to think when they see me," she commented with a dry chuckle as she went to work on her disheveled appearance, "I do NOT look like a woman suffering from a headache."

When she felt she could do no more, she gathered up her things and turned to leave the bathroom, announcing, "Well, this is as good as it's going to get so..." She sighed.

"Well, that's one rule that apparently hasn't changed," she whispered into the empty darkness, "Always leave without saying goodbye."

She strolled over to the bed, which Jarod had obviously taken the time to straighten, and plopped down on the end of it. Parker just sat there a moment, staring off into space. Exhaling deeply she intoned,

"Wow..."

Shaking herself back to reality, she quickly stood and straightened her dress before strolling out of the room to rejoin the party.

TBC...